Twelve Hours
by kiazilla
Summary: Because in the end, Sephiroth simply can't die, and neither can Vincent Valentine. So years after everyone else is gone, how will they treat each other?
1. Chapter 1

A prediction of this would have been simply impossible.

Although the idea of seeing one the dead in spirit was justifiable, perhaps even touching an estranged cheek, kissing cold lips.  
However, to die a thousand times and still keep the memories of previous sins was certainly something of a unique, maybe even celebrated event.  
Yet for someone who had been known as Sephiroth, the unusual nature of this memory retention was just a cruel coincidence.  
Anyone else would have gone mad a thousand times, if they had even survived all he had known. But not him. Not Sephiroth.

This was another inhumane twist to his fate, forcing him to drown in these broken memories, when all he wanted was death.

Sephiroth only wanted to die...

All he ever wished for now was not the destruction of the world. Sephiroth only wanted death for himself, to finally rest and lose himself amongst the other faceless souls in the lifestream. He wanted to dissolve, and to fall apart...

He hated the memories most of all.

Although the former general did not necessarily feel guilt for his sins, since he still had a thorough belief that what he was searching for was right, his already shattered heart burned with traitorous rejections from his mother.

Jenova.

She, who broke him and made him feel alive over and over.  
Yet she abandoned him. She left him all alone to fight, all alone without her tender voice speaking to him, comforting him.  
She was a traitor.

So Sephiroth buried himself in the icy caves of the Northern Crater. He struggled in-between the restricting icy blanket that buried him for decades, fighting with the backstabbing tone of his precious mother feeding her insane ideas into him again and again.  
He had his own battles, Sephiroth would insist. He had his own manacles to break from, and she returned, whispering to him what he had to do.  
But Sephiroth only wanted to die, now.

Eventually his ice blanket would melt.  
And eventually, due to natural and unnatural causes, those who he once called enemies would die. Disasters spent through Shin-Ra and AVALANCHE, the disasters of death and time.  
Sephiroth wasn't aware that the only survivors of the original Avalanche rebels now were the knowledgeable wolf, and the former Turk who obsessed so desperately with his birth mother.  
Sephiroth gave their memories no thought. The idea of them ever being a part of his life again was incomprehensible, so as the silver haired general dug his fingers deeply into his cold skin, and continued his journey through familiar but unidentifiable ground, he did not even think of seeing any who still knew of his legend first hand.

He did not think of anything but the pain that enclosed around him. His mind, mostly, hurt so much more than any physical disaster could.  
The silver haired man, once branded a monster, did not note the blood seeping quickly, aggressively, from his arms. Nor did he feel himself falling, his cheeks cut by the sharp stones that threw his body around like the weakest rag doll.

Sephiroth, the great general was no more.  
Sephiroth, the destroyer was no more.

At the base of Mountain Nibel lay Sephiroth, defeated and weak, with absolutely no hope or wish to live, let alone attempt his horrid reign again.

Sephiroth the great, had fallen.

"Sephiroth." Yet despite the fall, the silver haired general could swear he still heard a voice whisper his name. A voice that was somewhat familiar, but not familiar enough to be mother's.  
Was this further insanity? Would he hear other calamities now, ordering him, controlling him and forcing him further into his broken reality?

"Sephiroth." Yet the voice seemed tender.  
Why?  
If the general had any sort of desire to lift his bruised and cut features from the grass they were imbedded in, he would of seen confusion, as well as a slight hint of concern in the face of the one who called his name.

"Sephiroth... It can't be..."  
The general laughed.  
Or tried to, his body shaking as no sound came out. Mother's voice was never so tender. It had been soft, yet so cruel. This voice was gentle, without order behind it. Without any hidden facades. The concern was almost genuine. As was the bemusement.  
Sephiroth lay, attempting to predict when his name would be called again.  
Much to his surprise however, it wasn't. Instead his body was encouraged to turn, lay on it's back. Moist grass touched his exposed skin, the fabric of his clothes torn many years ago, ruined by his aimless wanderings.

"Leave me," the mako eyed one finally hissed, his eyes shut tight in defence from the sun that played over his fallen form. The other figure crouched, yet seemed to refuse to touch him.  
Was this an enemy? Would he have to suffer more torture, torture that would never actually kill him? Or was this a foolish child who had heard the tales of Sephiroth?  
The general didn't care.

At least not until the soft leather of a black glove traced his face. His arm. His body.  
And then he was whisked into a pair of strong arms without any particular trouble.  
He didn't attempt to struggle, not because he felt incapable, but because he was defeated. His will to live was defeated years ago, and his mystery companion seemed to realise this.  
Perhaps it was this that resulted in the silver haired man finally opening his eyes, instantly greeted by a form he had no true personal quarrels with, but he knew this man as one of his former opponents.

"...Vincent Valentine."

From Sephiroth's photographic memory, the man hadn't changed. His hair was long and black, and a similar outfit consisting of red and black was perfect around his body.  
The metal claw provided good support for carrying the general, who was an inch or two taller than Valentine in height, and somewhat heavier.  
The general's nose seemed to wrinkle in curiosity.  
Valentine, and his memories, also brought back the memories of Nibelheim. Sephiroth knew he was there, and his suspicions were proven correct as he, in the arms of the former Turk, approached the Shinra mansion through the tall, rusty gates.

"This is where it all began, didn't it, Valentine?" A hoarse laugh, yet no sound came out again. Just whispers and violent coughing.  
Vincent's red orbs never once looked to him even as be brought the silver haired frame into the mansion. No words had passed the former Turk's lips after he'd whispered the other's name.  
Not a single word.

The silence was kept between the two of them until Sephiroth had been lain on the large bed that Vincent himself never used. The bed was dusty, quite like the rest of the room, and provided evidence that Vincent Valentine was not particularly ecstatic about cleaning the mansion.  
The mattress squeaked and dented as Sephiroth was placed down with a surprisingly graceful care, and Vincent stood above him. He watched him for a moment without saying a word.

The disbelief that Sephiroth had earlier traced wasn't there anymore and Vincent's eyes held a strange acceptance, perhaps even approval.  
Mako green eyes closed, the other's gaze too intense for him at that moment.

"Don't move," Vincent ordered in his gentle voice, and the sound of his footsteps slowly going further away seemed to hypnotise the silver haired man sprawled carelessly on the bed.  
He could feel his joints beginning to ache now, and his body recognised pain.  
His mind however, seemed to become more focused on reality, and the voice of Jenova grew quieter, and quieter, sounding like a persistent yet tolerable buzzing when Vincent Valentine returned.  
The black haired one seemed somewhat pleased that Sephiroth hadn't moved. He sat by the bed without any caution, and took out several cure materia.  
He could feel the other's deep, mako eyes watching him with disbelief as he pressed the materia into Sephiroth's more obvious wounds. The others were left to heal alone, but Vincent didn't doubt that they would be gone in the maximum of seven days.  
However, he was still well aware of infection, so the little washcloth he had brought with him was dipped in anaesthetic, before he proceeded to slowly run it over Sephiroth's exposed wounds, collecting and cleaning off blood and dirt. Eventually, Vincent would encourage a bath but he doubted it was appropriate now.

"Why aren't you dead?" The direct question did not take the silver haired man by surprise at all. Instead he simply tilted his head an inch to the side, his vision directed and focused on a dark stain on the wall. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, perhaps it was simply the age of the Shinra Mansion and Vincent Valentine's dislike for cleaning. His lips pursed into a pout momentarily, before parting again as his moist tongue darted out to wet them slightly.

"Why didn't you try to kill me?" Sephiroth's response, the answering of a question with a question, was not particularly annoying to Vincent. In fact, Sephiroth almost swore that he detected a faint trace of a smile over the other's pale lips.  
Just then, Sephiroth turned his gaze towards the former Turk, noting for the first time that the handsome black haired man had removed his one glove, and now eased the wounds with his hand. His fingers occasionally brushed Sephiroth's skin.

"I cannot die," Vincent said softly. His fingertips touched Sephiroth's chest, a cut just above his stomach. He answered the question Sephiroth had asked him, and the question that he had asked Sephiroth in three simple words. The former Turk had a sense of desperation about him, loneliness that meant he could have accepted into his company, for even a moment, a man that was supposed to be his enemy.  
And Sephiroth would accept anyone that would keep him from his insanity.

"I cannot die either."

So Vincent nodded, and they remained in silence as the crimson eyed man continued to clean and add antiseptic to the wounds. Vincent Valentine knew all too well that he should of been a thousand times more cautious, he should have tried to restrain the former general, to take his life, yet he saw no threat in the collapsed form of Sephiroth.  
He only saw in Sephiroth what he felt in himself.  
"Do you eat at all?" Vincent asked, raising a curious eyebrow as he dropped the cloth into a bowl of blood stained water. He seemed almost reluctant to leave Sephiroth, as if fearing that the one winged angel would disappear.

"Do you? Do you have food? What for?"  
Vincent almost laughed at the questions fired at him as he rose to his feet. Sephiroth still eyed him as he worked on removing the rest of his torn upper body clothing without putting himself through unnecessary pain. The clothes were tossed to pool on the floor as the general lay back and sighed, somewhat suspicious of Vincent eyeing him now.  
Vincent Valentine however, was having a deep staring contest with Sephiroth's messy, uncombed locks. He desperately wanted to return it to the old state, and would sooner rather than later, when Sephiroth was a little more physically capable.

"I do not need it. It tastes nice though, doesn't it? I like to eat nice things. I'll get you some food and a drink. Make yourself comfortable, and try to pull the covers over yourself. I'll be back in a minute."  
Before Vincent left though, Sephiroth actually laughed. A magnificent laugh that made Vincent shiver like he wasn't quite expecting.

"I'm not going to get cold, Vincent Valentine," Sephiroth argued as he gazed at the ceiling with sleepy eyes. He was still in disbelief of this situation, but he didn't want to question it.  
"But I'll make myself comfortable."

Although the silver haired man would still find Vincent Valentine particularly peculiar, he found that he agreed with Vincent especially regarding the food. Although he ate only soup and drank only tea, he found his passion for the sweet tastes of anything but rain and mud quickly rekindled.  
"This is good," the rather fervent general was complimenting Vincent now as the Turk collected the second empty bowl. He looked down at Sephiroth and gave him a rare smile, recalling that it had been a while since he'd smiled.

"You think so? I'll make you something better tomorrow. It's more inspiring to cook for others, you know. So does it feel better? It's comforting, isn't it?"  
He set the tray aside for a moment, before sitting on the bed by Sephiroth. Neither seemed particularly defensive, they felt a similarity that made the unexplained worries between people make sense.  
Vincent opened the drawer and began to eye Sephiroth's messy mane again. No doubt, when the silver haired man was back to a more positive state, his hair would be a number one priority.

"I forgot how it all tasted," Sephiroth said softly, his voice coming back quicker than he expected. He sat up a little when Vincent suddenly presented him with a hairbrush. He didn't say anything, unsure whether he was meant to thank Vincent or not.

"Just... brush your hair please, Sephiroth," Vincent almost huffed as he rose, before smiling in return to the silver haired man's fantastic grin.  
"And get some rest. I'm in the other room."

Although Sephiroth almost came close to begging Vincent to stay, fearing that just maybe the persistent little nagging in his heart and brain would grow bigger and bigger with the black haired man gone, he managed to compose himself a little as he sighed into the pillows.  
Sephiroth only slept when he wished to. In his search for death, the idea of sleep never occurred. It seemed almost foolish now, and he would of laughed at himself if he didn't feel so comfortable on the bed. It looked horrid, but was surprisingly pleasant.  
The silver haired man sighed, and finally closed his eyes, his fingers touching the sheets beneath the covers. Vincent had asked him to sleep, so he would. After all, Jenova wasn't screaming at him now. Still there, as always, but the fact that Vincent Valentine, a former enemy, was in the next room, was far more overpowering.  
Eventually Sephiroth achieved sleep, and found himself in a comfortable trance, in a state that he hadn't felt for a very long time. If ever.

The silver haired warrior did not dream, as dreams were sometimes considered curses, and Sephiroth did not wish any more troubled thoughts upon himself, especially when he was desperately trying to escape his sin.  
So he didn't dream, yet for twelve hours found himself quite content, lying still as his mind would rest for the first time in _decades._  
Like any human, however, and Sephiroth was a broken human in the end, he woke when his mind decided that it had enough REM sleep, and the silver haired man began to turn under the heavy blankets, his nose wrinkling a little and his lips parting to release an uncharacteristic yawn.

By the time he got the enthusiasm to roll from the bed, Vincent Valentine had made his way to the entrance of the room, and was leaning surprisingly casually on the wall, a peculiar expression on his otherwise handsome face.  
With the covers now around his waist and exposing his pale white skin, Sephiroth was sat up, silver strands of hair falling over his eyes, which focused on Vincent nonetheless. He managed a smile, which the black haired man did not return but there was a sincerity in his eyes which the other took for affection of some sort.  
"How long was I sleeping?" Sephiroth asked, first to break the silence.

Vincent tilted his head to the side in response, before taking a step into the large room. The morning made the bedroom seem less aggressive, especially since Vincent Valentine had eliminated all of the monsters in Shinra mansion.  
Instead there was a neglected house, with a man in a red cape floating about. Except now, the man had company.  
He managed to force a smile, curving the corners of his lips. He stopped several metres from the bed, a respectable distance that would certainly not intimidate Sephiroth.  
And the man on the bed was far from intimidated. Instead he smiled in return, feeling himself draw back a little on the bed, as if offering it to Vincent, whom Sephiroth knew wouldn't sit beside him just yet.

"Twelve hours," Vincent spoke now, standing by the bed. His eyes shot away from Sephiroth's mako green ones when they met again, a light colour in his usual death white cheeks.

"Wow, I don't think I ever slept twelve hours. Not even when I thought I was human," the slightly taller man snorted, before moving his leather clad legs, so the tips of his toes touched the floor almost cautiously.The wood was cold against his feet, which had warmed during his twelve hour sleep. Sephiroth flinched, his eyebrows furrowing together in obvious irritation. It was unusual for him to be started by something which was too cold, or too warm.  
He could almost feel Vincent's smile hover in the air though, and it made him sigh a little, before tilting his head up to meet the crimson eyes of the black haired man, neither man finding it particularly necessary to talk.

"You are human, Sephiroth."  
However, Vincent was the first to break the silence. His hand stretched out, free of that glove still, and offered itself to the silver haired general, who took it without hesitation.  
Vincent pulled him up with a single tug of his arm, and they faced one another suddenly, mako green eyes reflecting in crimson red ones, a smirk tainting Sephiroth's lips as Vincent's remained in a thin line.  
"Your mother and father were human," Vincent continued, letting his hand loosen it's grip on the other's, before eventually falling apart. He took a step back, too, and moved slowly towards the exit of the room, his slow movements a silent hint for the other to follow, and indeed Sephiroth traced his steps obediently.

Although Vincent's words concerning his biological family may have effected him once upon a time, the silver haired man simply smiled now as he shook his wild mane, and moved behind Vincent on the creaking wooden steps.  
His hatred for Lucrecia, for Hojo, for all of them had taken many forms in his lifetime. Vincent speaking of them didn't result in pain, or anger. No emotion whatsoever. So he remained silent in order to avoid argument, only parting his lips when Vincent Valentine had apparently brought him to the kitchen.  
Sephiroth smiled, staying close to Vincent. He quite liked how close he was to another person, without the desire to quarrel, or cause complications. Jenova's voice was distant now, and the closer to Vincent he got, the further she went.  
"Are you cooking for me again? What would Cloud say," he smirked, surprised when Vincent responded with a smile of his own.

"I am. I went out to shop when you were sleeping. There's something pleasant about cooking for someone other than yourself," the former Turk nodded, before turning around and facing Sephiroth.  
They were face to face again, and Vincent was suddenly a little overwhelmed by how quickly Sephiroth was regaining his strength. His mako eyes were bright, his skin no longer deathly pale, and his entire physique seemed so much stronger, so much more pleasant as Vincent Valentine surprised himself and Sephiroth both by pressing his fingers to the other's chiselled chest.  
"Please sit down," he said calmly, and continued to push his fingers until they were stretched out completely and Sephiroth was backing away towards a chair. "Cloud's opinion is hardly one I can take into account, since he hasn't been...alive for a long time." Vincent raised an eyebrow, unaware that the silver haired man watched him as he began to rummage through the drawers. Sephiroth felt himself smiling unusually at the unimpressed expression on Vincent's usually calm features when apparently, a spider was discovered in one of the pans.

"I still don't understand," the biologically younger of the two persistently pursued the topic, even as Vincent struggled with his spider. "Why you're doing this for me."

Once the spider lost it's battle, and the black haired man crushed it rather mercilessly beneath his metal claw, he half turned his head to the other, merely to be polite, as his hands rummaged through the cupboards in search for flour.  
"I don't understand why you haven't tried to kill me yet. I don't suppose you're one for trickery," Vincent continued as Sephiroth leant back, sighing as his bruised back touched the cold wall. "So I guess we're both confused."  
He smirked a little at Vincent's words, and took them as a hint to be silent. He was relatively content with watching Vincent for the time being anyway, figuring that the red eyed man simply wasn't going to answer his questions.  
Because maybe, he just didn't know the answers.  
Maybe he was just as fragile to the answers and the truth as Sephiroth was, yet wanted Sephiroth to stay despite the confusion, because loneliness had finally broken two proud warriors down.

"Eat, please."  
Sephiroth tilted his head up suddenly, when an overwhelming smell of delicious food hit his senses. His eyes widened from their natural state and he looked down, unable to stop a look of utter surprise changing his features when he saw what he recognised as being pancakes.  
Sephiroth had never eaten pancakes, so he poked at them a little cautiously with his fork, watching Vincent as Vincent watched him.  
The food, as predicted, was delicious and the green eyed man expressed his gratitude verbally with a surprisingly loud 'mmm!' which took even Vincent by surprise. "There are really good," he spoke with a slight smile as Vincent Valentine cleared his plate, and pointed to the oven.

"I made extra, in case you wanted any."


	2. Chapter 2

Vincent had told Sephiroth that he could go whenever he wished.

He realised that not only could he not physically stop Sephiroth if the silver haired man chose to take his leave, but he did not want to stop him. He reassured Sephiroth frequently that he trusted him to lead his own life, and if he thought that moving apart from Vincent would guarantee that, then the former Turk would accept.

Vincent even offered the Shinra mansion to Sephiroth, as dangerous as it seemed.

With every offer, and every speech, Sephiroth would simply smile and say that he didn't want to leave.

He would only leave when Vincent wished him to.

Conversation between the two former warriors was infrequent.

Occasionally Sephiroth would ask Vincent a question, and once he'd even asked of Lucrecia. Vincent had smiled, however instead of the melancholy speech that Sephiroth almost expected, the black haired turk simply informed the younger man that she was a woman who he once loved, never loved him back.

When asked if he still loved he said yes.

"You never forget your first love. But I Iet her control my life, even after she was gone," Vincent had sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Sephiroth had noticed that day that the older man had stopped wearing his bandana, and let his raven locks fall freely over his eyes. This was something that Sephiroth certainly approved of, as it gave him the opportunity, on those very rare occasions, to move his hand and brush the strands of hair from Vincent's beautiful eyes.

He especially enjoyed it when Vincent would smile as his fingers brushed the flawless skin of the slender man's firm cheekbones.

They had kissed once, too.

The year in which Sephiroth had come to know Vincent Valentine for more than an enemy had passed quickly, and one day they had been enjoying their familiar yet slightly peculiar silence, sat beside one another in the living room, with a book balanced on each of their laps.

The library wasn't quite suitable yet, Sephiroth still disliked it severely. So Vincent had moved the books to the piano room, considering that neither man ever touched the instrument.

The basement had been untouched for months.

"Do you know, you have been here a year now."

Vincent didn't look up from his book as he spoke, and Sephiroth barely moved. He nodded, and his fingers continued to press to the book, before he finally shut the old thing and set it aside.

It was an old book, of old fairy stories, certainly not of the JENOVA project. Vincent had kindly insisted that all those books be burned until they were nothing but ash.

Once it was settled on the floor, Sephiroth turned to Vincent. His body was in the other's direction, and a large hand moved to push the older man's book down, as his lips clumsily claimed the other's without warning.

It was a kiss that was certainly far from perfect, and although Vincent Valentine showed no protest, and obediently tilted his head to welcome the kiss, he did not protest when Sephiroth suddenly pulled away and a chorus of apologies left his pale pink lips.

Instead Vincent nodded and accepted the words, and returned to his book.

Despite his cold behaviour, however, that night Vincent was the first to break the ice concerning their earlier intimacy, and slid into Sephiroth's bed just a moment after the clock slid past twelve, knowing that this was the first time that they had shared a bed, too.

"I'm glad that you're here," the ex Turk spoke first as he stared at the other's back. The covers were pulled over both their bodies, and Vincent noticed for the first time that the thin curtain in Sephiroth's bedroom did not do a very good job of keeping the light out.

The pale blue moon shone through the old fabric enthusiastically, casting a light violet shadow on the two forms lying awake in the Shinra mansion.

Sephiroth's features were emphasised dramatically by the moonlight when Vincent touched his back, those long, soft fingers not hesitating at all as they pushed up the fabric of his shirt and traced the curve of the other's back. They didn't go further, though, and rest on the masculine hip until invited further. Which they of course were.

Sephiroth's own hand rose to meet Vincent's and tugged at it cautiously, wrapping it around his naked waist since the shirt was still pushed up over his stomach a little.

He didn't respond to Vincent's words, but the black haired man said nothing else either. Instead they lay in their preferred silence, bodies touching and fingers linked, for exactly twelve hours.

It wasn't until the year after, however, that further intimacy would progress.

"Vincent."

It wasn't exactly unusual for Sephiroth and him to talk, of course, but conversation was generally limited. Both were men of few words, so for Sephiroth to simply call upon him without any true purpose made Vincent lift his head slightly, a soft 'hmm?' leaving his lips.

As usual, he was sat in the large living room beside Sephiroth, Vincent Valentine daydreaming and utterly unaware that the other had watched his features as unclear images drifted in and out of the former Turk's mind.

When Sephiroth said nothing, Vincent lifted his head completely, a barely there smile evident on his pale lips.

"Yes, Sephiroth?"

He couldn't quite help but consider how beautiful the general looked now, his hair sparkling as it moved over his shoulders, beautiful, mystifying.

Vincent Valentine slept beside that man every night now, even if their bodies rarely touched, there was a comfort about knowing that Sephiroth was by his side. Sephiroth, a man who was once branded his enemy, a man who's mother he adored so much he never thought he would love again.

And yet, with every morning, the black haired warrior discovered that his eyes would remain in Sephiroth's sleeping form for just a little longer than the last time.

And when their eyes met, like now, he felt a shiver deep down in his stomach, spiralling into his heart as he favourably admired their delicious mako green.

"Lets leave here, Vincent. It has too many memories." Although Vincent wanted to say that he was taken back by Sephiroth's words, he wasn't.

He had expected this earlier.

He knew that nightmares still took over Sephiroth when he slept. He knew that Jenova still tortured him, moreso here perhaps, than anywhere else.

"I want to go somewhere beautiful with you. I want to go to the Forgotten City."

However, the younger one's desire to go to the City of the Ancients did take Vincent by surprise, and the slender man clad in black leathers sat up, his toes curling slightly, since they were free of the hideous metal shoes.

"Why?"

"I want to live with you in a perfect world, Vincent. I don't know what you think, or what you wish... I don't know what you want. But I don't think it's to stay here, is it? This place destroyed us both, after all. Don't you hate being haunted?"

Dry, pale lips parted a little, as Vincent eagerly searched for words. None came though, and instead he looked at Sephiroth, beckoning him unintentionally with his delicious crimson gaze.

Sephiroth moved until he was sat beside the other, he would never crawl to him, and never kneel by him, but he'd sit beside him and take the pale hand, and silently reflect on how impossible this love affair still seemed.

"We can't have perfection, Sephiroth. We simply can't. With what we know, and what we've seen, we can't even come close," the dark haired one mused, however he had to suppress a slight smile at the feeling of their fingers entwined.

Sephiroth was rarely one to take his hand first, or initiate intimate contact. And although they lay together at night, sometimes their bodies tangled, Vincent would push for contact first.

"In honesty, Sephiroth, I'm just as paranoid about you in the city of the Ancients as I am here. But you're right, as much as I love it here, I hate it so much more. If we move, lets at least escape to a place neither of us has connections to. Lets start again. As fresh as we can."

A light smile showed little emotion, but Vincent could tell by the way those emerald green eyes looked into his that Sephiroth would agree.

And he did, moving his fingers coyly to touch at the black haired man's chin.

"Where would you like to go?"

There was a slight hint of uncertainty between the two as Vincent lifted the hand that was usually ignored, the thick metal gently touching Sephiroth's skin.

Despite the silver haired man's capabilities, Vincent Valentine still thoroughly believed that a single brush from this vile metal arm of his would somehow harm Sephiroth.

"We can go to the new town. Edge," the former Turk now offered. "Wutai, the Icicle areas... there are many places I'd like to be with you in, Sephiroth." Because in the end it didn't matter to Vincent, as long as Sephiroth was near him.

He hadn't felt alive in a very long time, and now his life was the man who was once his enemy.

It was an odd irony.

"We can try Edge, then," Sephiroth nodded in agreement, the idea of the two of them having just a little something, just for them, just a small new beginning was making him smile such a pretty, childlike smile now as he moved his body to Vincent's.

They simply sat together for a moment, so close beside each other, with their fingers touching the other's profiles.

Words were no longer necessary for Vincent Valentine and Sephiroth, and the older of the two slowly closed his eyes, allowing himself to be drawn into a gentle kiss with the silver haired man, a kiss that reflected the new care that they had never expected to feel for one another. After all, Vincent Valentine was convinced that he simply couldn't love anyone but Lucrecia, and Sephiroth had never even considered letting such emotions slip into his being.

Yet now he was kissing Sephiroth with feelings he couldn't recall even for Lucrecia.

He was sure that it was more than attraction, it had to be. Perhaps it was mutual understanding, their knowledge of each other, respect of the pain they had both felt.

Yet Vincent couldn't have guessed that respect alone would encourage a flame within him to burn brighter, and harder than before.

Their first real deep kiss certainly wouldn't be the last, Vincent knew that as he pulled away after lightly touching Sephiroth's lips again, as a temporary goodbye.

By the time that the two former warriors had reached the city of Edge and taken their part time residence at a small but relatively cosy inn, Vincent Valentine realised that his lips were claiming Sephiroth's in kiss number five now, each apparently being deeper and more demanding than the last.

He was breathless when he sat on the bed and let the silver haired man settle his larger body a top him, breathless but more than willing to continue.

Heat rushed through his body and his heart beat quicker when warm fingertips traced his the delicate skin of his neck as Sephiroth's tongue traced the inside of the black haired man's mouth.

The bed of the Inn would probably be problematic, it was certainly too small to fit their tall, muscular bodies, but Vincent didn't seem particularly fazed by this as he removed his shoes, and cape, before crawling backwards on the pillow, supporting himself by digging his elbows into the mattress.

A smile curled his lips as he watched Sephiroth remove his coat, followed by his shirt in complete silence.

They didn't need to speak, and they wouldn't, apart from whispering one another's name occasionally.

Vincent was content with keeping the former generals' warm, wet mouth against his own, their tongues moving together, tasting each other with such enthusiasm.

Vincent was very content with their hands slowly working together to rid him of the shirt he wore, which soon found it's way into abandonment with Sephiroth's on the wooden floor of their traditional little Inn.

It was Sephiroth's turn to hiss a little at the overwhelming sensation of new-found pleasure now as Vincent sat up just lightly from the bed, the metal claw still pressing into the mattress as his other arm explored the silver haired man's chest, lips sucking on his collarbone and the area around it gently as the trembling hand slid just a little lower.

His thumb caressed Sephiroth's firm stomach, fingertips moving down from his bellybutton, a little irritated by the cloth that stopped his hands from going further. He wanted to touch the other man, see and caress every inch and every curve of his body.

Another whimper, Sephiroth speaking Vincent's name to nobody in particular and tilting his back and neck to welcome the other's slightly more experienced lips on his neck, the little licks and bites making him shiver from his fingertips to his toes, his head spinning now as he leaned down just a little to capture Vincent's lips once more in an open mouth kiss.

His mako green eyes watched the black haired man, watched as Vincent touched his chest and nipples, and watched as their tongues slid over one another. The raven haired man whimpered slightly into the kiss, his arm moving around Sephiroth's broad back to pull him deeper into the kiss, causing the silver haired man to grind himself lightly against his companion's stomach.

And once again Vincent fell onto the bed completely, his claw taking the other's hand gently, and bringing it to his mouth, caressing Sephiroth's fingertips with his tongue and teeth as his human hand linked with the general's.

Sephiroth held his hand so gently, squeezing it and letting his other be nibbled on and sucked on so lightly as he moved on top of Vincent Valentine, his naked chest sliding down Vincent's as he quite happily attacked his neck, his tongue making invisible patterns and his hips tilting down just a little to relive that rush of electricity that had wavered through his body only moments ago.

Both men whimpered almost too quietly as Vincent lifted his hips to greet the ones of the former general, their arousal obvious to one another.

Sephiroth's skin glistened just a little in the dim light coming from the streets of Edge, and his mako green eyes remained half lidded as he let his now moist fingers stroke Vincent Valentines' bottom lip before he captured it in a deep, meaningful kiss.

The silver haired man continued to squeeze Vincent's slim hand now as they kissed, his own free one moving down the firm, muscular stomach with silent appreciation, stopping at the button of the former Turks' simple black trousers. He caressed the area gently, his hypnotising green eyes watching Vincent now as he let his fingers hover just lightly over the sensitive area between the beautiful black haired man's legs, applying a light pressure and causing Vincent to whimper and wriggle slightly, encouraging the rare touches on his highly responsive body.

Sephiroth needed no further encouragement and smiled a little against the other's lips, popping the button open with ease and sliding his hand into the cloth, the large surface of his soft palm pressing to Vincent's ache in a way that made the crimson eyed man practically buck off the bed.

"Sephiroth..."

The former Turk gasped as his lips glistened in the light.

He watched the other for a long time as Sephiroth seemed to get acquainted with Vincent's body, touching and feeling and exploring at the hardened flesh as the beautiful raven haired man attacked his neck with licks and kisses.

He bit down a little harder than expected when Sephiroth proceeded to undress him fully, caressing his skin in ways that were surprisingly tender and loving, ways Vincent never expected the silver haired man to know.

His cheeks were flushed a little, the colour healthy on his usually deathly white skin.

Vincent stretched his fingers out now, curving them around the waistband of Sephiroth, before pulling himself up and touching his former enemy in a similar way, loving how the silver haired man gasped when Vincent Valentines long fingers began to knead gently at his ache as the metal claw rid Sephiroth of the restricting pants neither seemed to be appreciating right now.

And so they lay together on their sides now, their naked bodies entwined and fingers on one another, stroking slowly, in a perfect rhythm together.

Green eyes only ever left red ones to occasionally glance down, hypnotised now by the motions of their hands, seeing them both pleasuring each other at the same time made Sephiroth approach his release a little quicker than Vincent, so when the red eyed ex Turk began to lightly massage the tip of Sephiroth's arousal with the padded cushion of his thumb as well as applying the firm pressure, the silver haired man felt his body react in quite a wonderful and unexpected way.

He began to tremble, the heat rushing through his body suddenly bolting to the sensitive area between his legs, his hips twitching with a desperate need as his free hand clung to Vincent.

The silver haired man whispered Vincent's name now, the name rolling off his tongue like gold as he caught the delicious red lips between his own and kissed the former Turk hard, his body shaking just slightly before a moan left his lips, louder than expected, and his body trembled for the last time as he emptied himself on Vincent Valentine.

It didn't take long for the other to follow, and soon enough they lay together, clinging to each other and kissing one another gently, over and over, as their bodies calmed from orgasm.

Both knew that it certainly wouldn't be the last, not for tonight and definitely not for a very long time.

It was a matter of giving one another a reason to live again, a matter of change and acceptance.

And Vincent Valentine accepted and trusted the man who's hair he gently brushed now, just as Sephiroth adored this change.

It was the idea of living again though, living together and happily that made both their hearts swell as they met each other's mouths, that inwardly delighted both Sephiroth and Vincent Valentine.


End file.
